


The Size of It

by Quakey (Quak3y)



Category: Cable and Deadpool
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 07:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14890404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quak3y/pseuds/Quakey
Summary: Fairly vanilla porn with a side dish of size kink.





	The Size of It

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a size kink request on the old kink meme (the circa 2009 one) that was never answered. "size kink, and not just about the naughty bits ^.^ Wade is not-so-secretly and not-so-silently turned on by how much Nate is bigger than him during sex."
> 
> For those of you who may be new to the Cablepool party (thank you Deadpool 2), this fic is about the comics versions of the characters back in the days of Providence where Nate is just massive at 6’8” and WIDE as compared to Deadpool’s 6’2” (and also ripped, but not as ridiculously as Nate). Need a visual? Try this http://reillybrown.tumblr.com/post/174036843480/dailydeadpool-one-of-my-favorite-cable-and by Reilly Brown.

Wade Wilson returns from a _stab people until they're dead_ kind of job. He refrains from bodysliding back, because Nate is generally the one rude enough to yank a guy out of whatever business he’s doing, not Wade, so he takes one of Nate’s transport jets to the island, then makes his way through the streets of Providence. He’s still in his costume, and he stands out.

Wade Wilson is tall at six foot two inches. He’s taller than almost everyone else in the streets, and all that red and black spandex leaves nothing to the imagination about how muscular he is. Luckily the citizens of Providence are accepting, crazy hippies and don’t stare … much. Not even when his sheer physical stature is combined with dual katanas, multiple guns, knife, and several blood-covered cuts and holes in his costume.

It’s unexpected to find his door unlocked. He enters cautiously, gun in hand, but holsters it as soon as he sees white hair and the glint of silver from his couch.

“What the hell?” he grumbles, stalking in, starting to divest himself of weapons, glaring at the mutant messiah of Providence relaxed against the back of his couch, eyes closed, possibly even taking a nap. Or watching the news on the back of his eyelids. Nate does have 24/7 access to the InfoNet after all.

“I saw you land through the security cameras,” Nate rumbles. “Thought I’d come say welcome back.”

“Fine, you just did, so now you can leave,” he grumbles. He’s checking his guns and putting them away, unbuckling, stashing ammo, leaning his katanas in the corner. Nate is watching him now but doesn’t make any other move. Wade rolls his eyes and starts wiggling out of the suit. To mend, or not to mend, that is the question. Probably not, what with the cut halfway through the torso and the bullet holes everywhere. He could duct tape it together, but it really ruins the look. And trying to sew up bullet holes just makes a scratchy, puckered spot that irritates his skin and looks terrible. Yep, this is why he orders the suits in bulk.

With a sigh he strips off the whole thing except the mask and blood soaked jockstrap (because how else are you going to keep the rod and tackle from bouncing around while doing flips?), with the intent of heading to the shower, but this is the moment Nate apparently decides to actually get off the couch. Two steps and his wrist is caught in a very large, warm, metal grip.

“I haven’t said it properly yet.”

Nate’s TO arm is pulling him closer while softer fingers hook the edge of his mask and drag it up above his nose, and then Wade is being kissed very thoroughly. He resists for a few moments, nipping just to be contrary, before deciding it’s more fun to join in. Wade’s hands slide around Nate’s waist and start his working shirt out of pants so that he can slide his hands under to all of his favorite places on Nate’s back and ass.

Nate makes an aggressive and appreciative noise, then pulls off enough to ask, “How was work?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. The other guys got it way worse than I did.”

“Hmm.” Nate sounds slightly skeptical, pulling back to glance down significantly at bloody underwear and the discarded, damaged suit.

Wade shrugs. “So I bled more. They’re _dead_.”

Nate doesn’t bother with a reply--often a good plan where Wade is concerned--and just lets his hands travel slowly down Wade’s body, letting them take some interesting little detours to explore on the way, until they finally hook in the elastic of the jock. Wade contributes some enthusiastic wiggles and shimmies to help get the thing to fall down to the floor, join the suit in probably leaving blood stains on the carpet.

“Have you finished saying ‘welcome home’?”

“Not yet,” Nate says, smirking and tugging him toward the couch.

“I wanted a shower,” Wade complains.

“Don’t care,” Nate declares, and seems to get tired of trying to urge Wade closer and just leans forward, grabs his hips, and manhandles him onto his lap on the couch. “You were gone a week, and I’ve been getting rather used to this … arrangement.”

Straddling Nate while completely naked makes Wade feel like a twink by comparison, which is ridiculous, because he knows he’s not. But the man is just so _big_ , in every possible dimension. Wade’s thighs are splayed to each side in order to span Nate’s in a way that feels so _wanton_ , cock already gaining interest and hanging heavy between them.

Wade’s not the only one interested. Hands are squeezing his ass, sliding underneath, and then Nate just grips and drags him like it was nothing, grinding Wade down on where there’s a hard tent growing in the front of Nate’s pants.

Wade is into this, and maybe it’s the friction and maybe it’s the way Nate’s moving him like he weighs nothing. He tries to squirm and set a faster rhythm, more of the friction that’ll feel so good, but Nate utterly ignores him, instead using those hands kneading his ass to rock him back and forth over the outline of his cock.

Since he can’t make headway below the belt, Wade turns to the top half of Nate, yanking at his shirt until he can ruck it up under Nate’s armpits, lean in to take advantage of so much skin and techno-organic living metal. He kisses across pecs, licks a nipple, lets his hands roam over all the interesting muscles groups of Nate’s chest and back, making sure he gets as many appreciative noises and forceful exhales of approval as he can. He moves his hands lower, right over Nates abs. Touches his thumbs, spreads his fingers as far as he can to the sides, feels the ripple of strength, silver and skin, can’t even begin to reach Nate’s sides.

A groan, “How’d you get so _big_ , Nate? Cyc’s tall, but,” his hands sliding up Nate’s sides, over the firmness of obliques, lats, to defined pecs, shoulders, “you’re like … a tank. No. A tank that had sex with a giant and made babies.”

A shrug ripples under his hands. “The techno-organic mesh. To carry its weight, my body compensated.”

“Huh.” Wade eyes the silver left side of Nate with new appreciation. “I should tell it thank you more often.” And he teasingly mouths the line where flesh meets metal in the center of Nate’s chest, listening to his breath hitch. Fingers play with a flesh nipple while teeth and tongue wander sideways until they can bite and suck a metal one. Tries to trail his mouth upwards to a warm metal neck but the damn shirt gets in the way.

“One of us is overdressed and it’s not me. Are you gonna strip or do I get to rip your clothes off again?”

“Agreed,” is the slightly breathless reply. Nate rolls Wade onto the couch cushions as he stands and starts stripping. Wade is fidgeting with impatience, yet watching with appreciation as pieces of a naked Nathan Dayspring Summers appear one after another. Muscles on muscles, that’s Nate all right. Precise movements, unhurried and confident as he strips, takes the time to pile his clothes somewhat neatly and retrieve a small bottle from his pants pocket before walking back to where Wade is waiting.

“Now you’re the one overdressed,” Nate smirks as he leans down. Wade shudders as fingers hook under the mask and pulls it off the rest of the way. No many how many times Nate sees his body completely naked, this is what makes him actually feel naked. Opened up. Vulnerable with his true face uncovered.

And then Nate lowers himself back onto Wade, and it’s even _better_. Settling the weight of his hips to pin Wade down, holding his upper body raised on his arms, hands planted on each side of Wade’s shoulders, confining him, leaning down to trace the line of where an eyebrow should be with his lips. Wade is squirming and cursing and gasping, feeling breathless in a good way at being trapped underneath Nate. Nate’s above him, taller than him, broader than him, longer than him. Nate’s _everywhere_. Smooth and warm in all the right places. Heavy, so heavy, in a way that makes it deliciously hard to breath. And the best, the very sizeable hardness sliding against Wade’s and making him gasp and buck his hips up, sling an arm around Nate’s neck and pull their lips together.

“Nnnngh,” he moans when Nate pulls away from the kiss. “Nate, you’re so damn heavy.” And it should sound like complaining, except for the way it’s breathless and lust-filled instead.

Nate just smirks. “You want me to get up?” he asks innocently.

“No! No. Just get on with it,” Wade pants, eyes narrowing.

Nate confuses Wade by pressing the bottle of lube into his hand. “Then help,” he says, reaching down, fingers hooking behind Wade’s knee on the outside edge of the couch. Tugging, rearranging, one leg pulled high to open Wade up. Nate slips his body toward the back of the couch slightly, that heavy weight off center now. Fingers trail ghost-gentle over the cleft of Wade’s ass, press lightly on his hole, then slide upward.

It’s so good, Nate pushing down heavily without completely crushing him, one leg bent upward and sandwiched between them, Nate supported by his TO elbow to the inside of the couch and where their groins are pressed together. Wade squirms for more pressure on his cock, more slide, more--

Wade stares at the hand Nate is now holding expectantly over his chest, palm cupped.

“Wade, I only have one hand free. The lube?”

Oh god. Wade quickly unscrews the cap, pours probably more than necessary onto the cupped tips of Nate’s fingers. Nate rubs it around with his fingers, and then the hand disappears from sight, but--

Wade makes a shaky but _totally manly, he swears it_ sound as Nate’s thick fingers slide slickly around his hole and then push in. Slow progression, one, then two, then three, and Nate finds a pattern he likes, lazily sliding in and out, twisting his wrist, curling his fingers, and at the same time Nate is kissing him in little teasing nips that seem to go on and on, just like the slide that’s stretching him and feels so _good_.

“Do you think you’re ready for me?” Nate asks, and it isn’t fair how in control of his voice he sounds. Then again, he’s not the one getting finger fucked into oblivion.

“Ye--aaaaaah… _yes_. The-- _mmmmph_ \--whole Nathan Summers experience, right here, right noooooooow-- _oh yes_!”

Nate sits up, snags the lube from Wade’s hands--he’d forgotten he was even holding it--pours more on his hand and rubs it all over his cock.

Wade swallows. Nate’s cock. Jutting out straight and proud, twitching upward as Nate’s hand strokes it. And huge. Seriously huge. Had he mentioned huge? Huge.

Wade had kind of known he had a size kink before Nathan. But then, didn’t everyone? Porn was pretty clear, bigger was better, be it boobs or boners.

But there is bigger and then there is _bigger_. And Nate’s cock is the thickest and all around _biggest_ Wade has ever seen in person. Not necessarily the longest, because some of those guys in porn are just freaks. With Nate it was like you took a regular guy who had a really nice, big cock and then scaled it up in the same way the rest of Nate was bigger and _way_ thicker than average. Definite emphasis on thicker. And on it being a really beautiful, well proportioned piece of male anatomy. Smooth shaft except for a few prominent veins, nicely shaped head, flushing darker in arousal. Just _perfect_.

Wade is rock hard and short of breath just looking at it.

Nate screws the cap back on the lube, drops it unceremoniously. He tugs at Wade, who after a moment is scrambling to turn the way Nate wants, leaning on the back of the couch with his ass in the air.

Wade feels one hand on his hip and the press against his hole, teasing, sliding up and down. His breathing starts and stutters, can’t stand the delay.

“Nate! Plow me with that monster already!” he whines.

An aroused growl and sudden, firm pressure are the only answers he gets.

Wade has some serious respect for Dom or any other woman or man who’s ever slept with Nate without the benefit of a healing factor. Not that he needs it now, but the first couple times he and Nate did this, too quick and desperate with want, that healing factor had been essential. Now though, muscles have adapted to accept this intrusion. It’s _so much_ stretch with a hint of burn, and he’s full, _so very full_ , and it’s pressing on _everything_.

“Fuck! You’re still so _tight_ ….”

“That’s ‘cause you’re so huge,” he pants.

“Flattery?” Nate murmurs, suddenly in Wade’s ear as he leans forward over Wade, as he’s everywhere around Wade.

A gasp. “Will get me anywhere. Like laid.”

Then Nate starts moving. Slowly at first, which is surprisingly thoughtful but also infuriating, because Wade wants _more faster harder deeper_ , as much as he can take. He moans whenever Nate makes a rougher move, and that seems to do it, because the rhythm speeds up a little. Rough and uneven, but faster. Nate’s hands are on his hips, moving and lifting however he wants. Wade’s thoughts are shorting out, like sparking, cut wires, totally gone on the hot, thick _drag slide press_ in his ass.

Those hands grab his ass, spread it so he’s sure Nate can get a really clear look at what his cock is doing. Which is confirmed when Nate practically purrs, “I never get tired of watching you stretch around me.” A finger dips, traces where they’re joined. “What does it feel like, to have so much inside you?”

A moan is all the answer he’s going to give, until Nate pauses while all the way in, leans forward to teasingly mouth at neck, ear, the line of a shoulder blade.

“I asked, what does it feel like?”

“G-good. I know, not the b-best description… Uh… Kind of hard to think with the biggest dick I’ve ever fucked in my ass. _Would you move again?_ ”

Nate grinds against his ass, pulling at the muscles in a ways that’s wonderful, but that misses the pummeling he’s really wanting. “Really, the biggest?”

“Don’t act surprised. You’re all huge and muscley, one of the biggest guys I’ve ever seen who isn’t mutated like The Hulk or something, although I guess Warpath is even taller. I wonder what he’s packing in his trousers, maybe I could--”

“Don’t you dare,” is growled angrily and oh _that_ finally got Nate moving. Rutting into him, grabbing his hips again to move him to his satisfaction.

“Oh, Nate, that’s it, just … just … put me where you want me… fuck … _fuck_!”

The chuckle he hears behind him is just _evil_ but the cock in his ass is _heavenly_ , Nate finding his own pleasure while also making sure Wade is making loud noises of appreciation.

Right until the bastard has the gall _to pull out_.

After being so full moments ago, being so empty is like torture. Wade can’t even seem to wrap his tongue around the massive indignation he’s feeling, squirming around to see Nate over his shoulder.

“ _Are you fucking out of your mind--_ ,” he starts.

“You said to put you where I want you,” Nate replies mildly. And then he’s pulling Wade to face him, to his chest, and hands are grasping, lifting, pulling Wade’s legs around Nate’s hips.

Wade’s head snaps back as he’s entered again, faster and smoother. His arms are around Nate’s neck, they’re panting near each other, and then they’re panting each other’s air through something that is too distracted to be much of a kiss. Nate’s hands are supporting him, fingers splayed, carrying him to the bedroom, still riding half of Nate’s monster cock, the angle not quite right for going all the way down. Nate grabs a couple pillows and shoves them under Wade’s hips as he flops them both down on the bed, Wade pinned underneath, ass lifted, legs still splayed outward to fit around Nate’s muscled waist. He feels a welcome burn and stretch in his thighs, Nate’s hands pushing his legs outward gently but firmly so he can press the entire massive width of his hips against Wade’s ass.

And Nate moves, sometimes slow and languid, sometimes hard and fast, bringing Wade closer and closer each time before changing the rhythm and postponing the inevitable crash.

“So good, so fucking good,” he groans above Wade. “Can’t believe you can take it all, every time, so tight, _so good_!”

“Fuck! Nate!”

They’re both almost there, it’s obvious in the desperation of noises, movement, curses.

Finally Nate reaches one hand between them and sends Wade over the edge with the feel of that big hand jerking him to the rhythm. He feels his ass fluttering around the monster intrusion, so full that he really can’t clench down, muscles fighting against the stretch and failing, trying to constrict when they can’t, and it just makes him come harder. Gasping, twitching. Prolonged. White streaking between them. Nate follows after a few seconds later, grinding and growling with sharp snaps of his hips as he empties himself, then collapses huge and heavy on top.

In the afterwards of it, coming down from some blissed out place in his mind, Wade settles into his body with a feeling of disquiet. It’s paranoid, but he finds himself questioning how much of this thing they have is because he gets off on how big Nate is and Nate gets off because he finally has someone who can take it all. That it’s just a kink thing for them, that’s all that’s keeping them doing this.

He shifts uncomfortably, trying to roll away, but a metal arm snakes around his waist, gentle yet firm.

“Don’t get weird on me, Wade,” rumbles in his ear.

“Me? Weird? Have you met me? I’m on the poster for weird, right next to LMFAO and Lady Gaga and we’re all dancing the macarena--do kids these days even remember that craze?”

A sigh tickles his ear and then Nate’s hand starts moving, gently, warm living metal sliding across his shoulder, rubbing along lines of muscle and tendon to force contracting muscles to loosen.

“I like you for more than just your ass,” Nate says, as usual somehow able to figure out what’s in Wade’s head even without telepathy.

“That’s right, you like my mouth too. For its stimulating conversation and _wink wink_ other uses.”

“Don’t forget the delightful sound of your voice.” Nate sounds unexpectedly honest. “And all the rest of you.”

And Wade … might believe him. After all, they take too long for just a quick fuck, they kiss too much, there’s too much enjoyment in being skin to skin, and sometimes it’s almost too slow and emotional.

It’s not _just_ about each finding someone the right shape to fit them.

“Yeah right.” But he feels his shoulders slowly relax, tension pulled away by Nate’s words and his big, clever fingers.

Nate rolls onto his side, pulling and rearranging Wade to curve against him, wraps him around with an arm, draws him in flush and warm.

“Wade,” he says with a yawn, “welcome home. Now be little spoon and go to sleep.”

“I'm not a little spoon,” Wade grumbles as he squirms to get more comfortable. “I'm a big, manly spoon. It’s not my fault you're some kind of giant, oversized serving spoon.”

“Wade. Shut up.” But it’s fond.

He falls asleep with Nate pressed up behind and tangled with him. Around, above, everywhere. And Wade feels … smaller by himself, but bigger together. Fragile, yet protected. Vulnerable, yet invincible. Safe.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my favorite piece, but I was feeling completionist and didn't see the point in having it sitting 95% done on my drive forever.*shrug* Hopefully it can bring joy to some of you. And now I'm free to move on to my next WIP without guilt.
> 
> I'm [withoutaconscienceorafilter](https://withoutaconscienceorafilter.tumblr.com) or [quakeyfic](https://quakeyfic.tumblr.com) on Tumblr, depending on how much spam you desire.


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